


Intrusive Fantasies

by usurpingwomen



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canon Typical References to Violence, F/M, Getting Together, I AM IN DENIAL, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, be kind, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 06:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usurpingwomen/pseuds/usurpingwomen
Summary: Benson and Barba get stuck working late in his office, and his thoughts can't help but wander.





	Intrusive Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and my first attempt at smut. I'm working through some season 19 feelings. Thanks for reading!

His status as a feminist icon not withstanding, Rafael Barba was a man with a fantasy, and God help him if it didn’t often start out just like tonight. They were alone in his office, almost alone in the entire building, save for the security guards at the front doors. Something about the atmosphere in his office at night made his mind wander to activities other than case prep. He was a little turned on by the old books lining his walls, the leather armchairs, the smell of his bourbon, his solid wooden desk. They had been bickering earlier in the day, and there was residual tension between them. Now they were working comfortably, almost tangled together at the round table near the couch in his office. Their shoes were off, her hair was down, and they were sitting closely, arms touching, her breath grazing his ear when she talked. Several of his wildest dreams started out just like this. _It would be so easy,_ he thought. He shook his head, poured a third glass of bourbon. This wasn’t a fantasy, despite the thoughts rolling through his head, coming unbidden one image after another. They had work to do.

He had asked Olivia to meet with him after dinner to discuss her case notes and help him get a feel for what his witnesses would be like before it was time to prep them for trial. Rollins had offered to take Noah for a sleepover, understanding that their case prep was time sensitive and critical for the verdict they needed. They were working out a particularly delicate case of spousal rape and domestic violence, in which their victim, a young nurse named Elena, had found the courage to press charges against her abusive husband Roger, after he had also attacked her younger sister. Spousal rape was a minefield already, and the victim’s delayed outcry would only complicate the narrative in the jury’s minds. To make his case, Rafael was depending on the couple’s neighbor to corroborate her story that her husband’s violence had escalated over the previous month. “He says he remembers hearing the husband screaming and terrorizing Elena and her sister through a shared wall over the previous week or so. He can speak to not only the pattern of abuse, but the escalation. He can also testify to witnessing Elena’s history of injuries, since she usually took care of them herself and they aren’t documented by any other medical professional,” Olivia explained. 

“Do you think he can establish a concrete timeline? Does he remember what happened on which days clearly and consistently?” Rafael tried to view all testimony from a juror’s point of view, and he felt that a timeline would go a long way to establish this witness’s credibility. He trusted her to determine what testimony was relevant, but he had to do his due diligence.

“As a matter of fact,” Olivia answered, smirking a little, “he remembers in vivid detail. Our witness is something of a playboy. He can remember exactly how Roger threatened Elena and Ana on a given night based on which of the four different Tinder dates he brought home were at his apartment when it happened.” 

He looked up, surprised. “That’s good,” he said. “The timeline is good.” Rafael’s eyebrows lowered, and he smirked at her. “Four dates?” he asked. 

“In the week leading up to the assault alone.” 

He blew out a breath and ran a hand over his face. “The guy had more sex in one week than I’ve had in the last… three years,” Rafael said sardonically. He regretted it almost immediately. He shouldn’t have poured that third bourbon. He didn’t even have the benefit of being drunk, just too honest. He never talked about his sex life with Olivia, mostly because he didn’t have a sex life outside of daydreams about Olivia. Sometimes his desire became so intense that he pulled out his phone, pretending to be answering emails to stop himself from touching her. He hoped fervently that she would let it drop and returned his gaze to her case notes, but when he hazarded a glance up, he saw that she had cocked an eyebrow and was considering him intently.

“You’re not sleeping with anyone?” she asked. 

“Definitely not.” _Change the subject, Barba, you idiot. You’re going to say something even stupider._ “Do you think we’ll have a problem getting him to follow through with testifying?” 

She furrowed her brow. “No, I don’t think so. He feels bad about knowing what was going on and not doing more to help. He said he wanted to ask her about it, but you know how New Yorkers are.” She touched his arm lightly, needling him. “How long has it been since you’ve been with anyone?” 

_Of course she’s not going to let it go._ He sat his pen down and moved over to the couch with his ill-considered bourbon. She followed him over, sitting next to him and tucking her knees under her so she was facing him, almost leaning into him. “Two and a half years. Look, Liv.” He blew out a breath. “I’m always _here._ With you. Or at the bar, with you. Or in your apartment, with you. This job doesn’t leave a lot of room for extracurriculars.” _You don’t leave a lot of room for extracurriculars,_ he thought.

“Are you saying I cockblock you, Counselor?” she teased. 

“Liv. Can we not talk about my cock?” he asked. It was late, and there was bourbon, and last night he had a devastatingly inappropriate dream about binding her wrists with the very tie he was wearing now. He had disaster on the tip of his tongue. _Don’t think about her tongue,_ he admonished himself. 

“Do you want to spend less time together?” she asked.

“You know that’s not what I want.” 

“You don’t think about sex?”

“I think about sex, Olivia. I miss sex.”

“But the issue is that you spend too much time with me?”

“The issue is that sex and time with you are mutually exclusive. I can’t have both at the same time.” _Fuck._

Now both her brows were arched. She leaned closer to him. The smell of her perfume wafted from her hair, more intoxicating than the bourbon. She touched his arm. “You want both at the same time?” she challenged. 

“I didn’t say that,” he replied using his courtroom voice, willing her to back down. _Why is she doing this to me?_

“You didn’t deny it either,” she countered.

He stared at her, meeting the challenge. “What do you want me to say?” 

“What do you want to say?”

_Fuck it._ “I don't want to say. I want to show you,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. 

He crossed the gap between them in an instant and kissed her hard and deep, one hand on her waist and the other on her neck, his thumb caressing her jaw. He kissed her with three years of sexual tension and innuendo and cold showers hanging thickly in the air. He could never, never tell her that at this stage of his life, he didn’t care about the women on fucking Tinder or hooking up in bars. Her capability, her fierce command of herself and her squad, her integrity, her vulnerability, her femininity turned him on, lit him up every day with desire, and anything else was a poor substitute for what he really wanted. He could never tell her. He had to show her. 

She stilled at first, but he praised every god in the pantheon when she started kissing him back enthusiastically, feverishly. She licked and then bit his bottom lip and he groaned, breaking free to catch his breath. She nipped at the stubble on his jawline, kissed her way down his neck and behind his ear. He was gasping now, grasping at her waist with both hands, aching to pull her closer. She made a frustrated noise and sat up, straddling him and pinning him to the couch in one swift motion. He realized idly that she still had her gun at her hip and wondered how many extra steps it would take to get her naked. 

“Are you into this? Here?” she asked breathlessly. 

“God, yes,” he responded. He tucked his fingers under her shirt, running them over the smooth skin of her back and ribs. She crossed her arms at her hips and drew her shirt over her head, then grabbed him by his hair and brought her face down to kiss him again. There was heat between them, he realized, rejoicing. He hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t been the only one to feel it. He could feel himself getting hard beneath her, and nearly died from pleasure when she ground herself down on his lap. His hands found their way to her back and he rolled her, gently but quickly, laying her back down on the couch. He stroked her hair and face, delighting in her little moans and tiny shivers. 

He knelt between her legs and bent over her on the couch, moving his lips from her mouth to her throat. His body hummed. His mouth made a holy journey down to her bra, freeing her breasts and worshiping each of them languidly. He could feel her body tensing up, coiling beneath his attentive fingers, teeth, tongue, and he moved south, mouthing his way down to the waistband of her jeans. Olivia groaned and sat up, removing her gun, her holster, her badge, and wriggling out of her pants.

It was his turn to tease her. “You don’t waste any time, Lieutenant.” 

“It sounds like we’ve wasted three years, Counselor. There are things I’ve been dreaming of doing to you, and I’m tired of waiting for what I want.” 

He was surprised, but he schooled his features. “Really.” He hoped he didn’t sound as excited as he was. He could feel himself quivering at the thought of what she did to herself when she was thinking about him. “Any special requests?” 

“I’m pretty sure we’ll get there,” she replied. 

His eyes glimmered. Rafael grabbed the front of the waistband of her panties with his teeth, using his free hands to tug them the rest of the way down. He looked up into her eyes and shivered with satisfaction when she bit her lip to keep from moaning. He buried his face between her legs, nuzzling first with his nose, then his lips, then his tongue against her clit.  
“Rafa,” she gasped, one hand in his hair and the other thrown over her face. “Fuck. More.” 

Hearing his name roll off her lips like a prayer sent him reeling. Her back arched and her thighs trembled beneath his hands. _I need to hear her say my name at least five hundred more times tonight,_ he thought. He renewed his focus on her most sensitive areas, taking his time testing out his teeth and breath and fingers to find out what she liked, reminding himself that this was Liv, his Liv. Reminding himself that he may only get this one shot to make her feel what he felt every day. He slipped a slow, exploratory finger inside her and found her soaking wet. He added another, and moved in time with his tongue, flicking against her. He felt her tighten, tighten, tighten, and finally spasm around his hand, sitting upright with the force of her orgasm. She was gasping, chest heaving, and she looked absolutely ravaged to his hungry eyes, but also strangely angelic. Glowing. He kissed each of her thighs, then her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she said. 

“I know.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

“Oh my god.” 

He grinned. “Do you want to do it again?” 

She finally opened her eyes to take stock of the situation. He was still fully dressed, while she was completely naked except for her bra bunched up around her rib cage. She reached behind herself and removed the garment. He reached for her again, needing to touch her, but she pushed his hands down. “Too sensitive,” she said. “Your turn.” 

God help him. 

He was still kneeling, but she pulled him up by his hands so that he was sitting on the couch in their original position. She removed his already loosened tie, fingers fluttering at the base of his throat and around his neck. The gentle scratching of her nails against his skin sent his pulse racing and nerves sparking underneath her touch. She removed his suspenders, pausing to give him a dirty, fierce kiss and say, “Fuck, these are so hot on you.” She began unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the extra bit of exposed skin with each one. When her face was level with the button of his pants and he could no longer contain his shuddering breaths, she looked up at him. She placed a hand on the fly of his slacks and rubbed the length of him, once, twice, again, again, before undoing the button and releasing the pressure against him. He sighed with relief, followed by a wave of delicious agony when she pulled his cock out of his boxers and stroked it slowly and firmly in her hand. He hissed and forced his eyes to stay open, willing himself to imprint the scene in his mind. Her eyes had gone dark, and her lips were glistening. She looked up into his face. “Can I ride you?” she asked. 

His head dropped back in disbelief, and he groaned as he stared at the ceiling. “You’re killing me, Liv. Jesus Christ.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Everything is a yes with you. Whatever you want. Always.” 

She straddled him. She was still wet from his earlier ministrations, but it still took a little bit of concentration to get the angle right. She took him slowly, pumping him into her a little at a time, until finally she sank down onto the length of him. She sighed. He swore. Then she began to move. 

Rafael had a thousand fantasies, all of them about her, and none of them came close to what it finally felt like to be inside her. She was up on her knees, straddling his hips, sinking down into him and withdrawing at a leisurely, almost lazy pace. She was savoring this feeling, he realized. Just like he was. It was hard for him to control his mouth, and he pleaded with her, in English and Spanish, asking for _more, por favor, te necesito, mi amor, my darling, more._ She quickened her pace, bouncing against him, and his fingers tightened on her hips. He met her hard and fast, and gasping, almost screaming, she came again. Not wanting to overwhelm her, he moved his hands up along her back, tracing her spine, kissing her breasts, whispering adoration to her as she came down from an incredible, impossible height. She pressed her forehead against his and met his eyes. 

“It was even better than the dream I had about you last night,” she whispered. 

“You have those too?” 

“Too often to be ladylike.” She fisted her hands in his hair. “What do your dreams look like? What’s your fantasy?” 

“You. This. Here,” he answered truthfully.

“Be more specific.”

“My desk is very sturdy,” he remarked. “Sometimes when you’re squabbling with me and pissing me off, I think about what you would look like bent over it.”

“That sounds very distracting,” she murmured. 

“Very. You drive me to distraction, Lieutenant. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. I thought you were a trained detective.”

“That’s just one of my many skills.“ 

He groaned and captured her mouth with his. His dick twitched inside her, and he swallowed her laughter. She pulled back from his mouth and slowly, gingerly stood up, reaching her hands out to help him up off the couch. He missed her warmth on top of him and chased her mouth with his own. He stepped out of his pants and kissed her again, forcefully enough that she took a step back, then another. His hands were around her waist, dipping down to her ass as he guided her backwards, past the armchairs and onto the edge of the solid oak desk. He perched her on top of the desk and slipped back into her effortlessly, blissfully. 

The heavens opened up. He thought he might have blacked out for a second. Her scratches along his back brought him down to reality, and he stared at her face. Her head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trembling between her teeth. He wanted to memorize every detail about this moment - the way she looked, the sounds she made, the smell of her hair. He peppered kisses over her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, her ears and neck. She held on tightly to his shoulders and gasped, “This wasn’t the deal.” 

He slowed to a stop and waited for her to open her eyes and look at him. “Do you not want to do this, Liv? We can stop.” It might kill him, but he would stop if she needed him to stop. 

“What? No,” she said, trying to concentrate. “I mean, the deal was that you were going to bend me over this desk. I’m asking you to hold up your end of the bargain, Counselor.” She smiled up at him. 

Her words melted every bone in his body, and he slumped against her momentarily. “You’re trying to kill me,” he accused. 

“What are you going to do about it?” she taunted. 

He pulled out and flipped her over, pressing his palm lightly against her back until she was flush against the surface of his desk. He pushed his fingers between her legs, feather light, and spread them apart. He lined himself up, slipping a finger inside her first and experimentally pumping it into her to test the angle. 

“Rafa,” she gasped. 

He entered her hard. “Say it again.” He meant it to be a command, but it came out like a plea. 

“Rafa, you feel so good,” she moaned. Once she started talking, it seemed she couldn’t stop, and her filthy encouragement, always accompanied by his name, spurred him on. He was slapping against her, panting and using up every ounce of his self-control to keep going as her cries got higher and more intense. He felt her come one more time, and it shattered him into oblivion. 

Moments later, he came to. He was slumped over behind Olivia, both of them gasping. He trailed delicate kisses across her shoulder blades, tangling his fingers in her hair, slipping out of her and pulling her gently up off the desk, leading her back to the couch across the room, whispering comfort to her, _ven conmigo, mi amor, mi vida, te tengo._

He laid down, pulling her on top of him, and covered their lower halves with his button-up. She rested her cheek against his chest and their legs tangled together. She shivered, but she seemed content. He rubbed light circles across her back with the flat palms of his hands, grounding her as she came down. Grounding himself, as well. 

“You’re pretty good at that for someone claiming to be so out of practice,” she murmured after a few moments of contentment. 

He smirked and kissed the top of her head. “You always did bring out the best in me,” he said. 

“I’m having trouble believing this isn’t another dream,” she said. 

“It’s too good to be a dream. My dreams never end like this.”

“How is this ending?” she asked. 

He considered. “Come home with me. Wake up with me. Have breakfast with me. That’s how I want this to end.” 

She smiled and cuddled closer against him. Soon, they would have to get up and dress themselves. Security was still in the building, and he didn’t know who else was around. They still needed to finish their witness prep, he remembered. The thought reminded him of another fantasy, in which they squabble over a case, already naked in his bed. Maybe later, they could bring that dream to life, too.


End file.
